


Confidentiality Ensured

by inamac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Prostitution, Unintentional Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-31
Updated: 2010-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inamac/pseuds/inamac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the War, the Malfoys are forced into *gasp* <i>trade</i>. But only in the best possible taste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confidentiality Ensured

**White Peacock Escorts – Confidentiality Ensured**

It looked like a plain white oblong of blank card, until one realised that the image of the bird, and the square serif script were printed in raised cream ink, elegant and understated.

Gabrielle Delacour tapped the business card thoughtfully against her lower lip as she gazed at the door which had the same legend etched on the opaque glass. Maman would definitely not approve of the reason for her visit here, although she had abstracted the card from her mother's reticule after the charity ball to which the oh-so-charming Mr Lucius Malfoy had been her escort for the evening.

And for much of the following night.

Maman had been boringly insistent on her finding either a job or a husband as soon as she left Beauxbatons. In fact the ball had been an attempt to get her introduced to some eligible young wizard who might fulfil the second position.

Gabrielle's preference was for achieving the first. But her qualifications, interrupted as her education had been by the fiasco of the Triwizard Tournament and the subsequent war were proving an obstacle to finding a job appropriate for a witch of her background and family.

Well, she thought, putting the card back into her bag and putting a hand to the door to push it open, If I am going to offer my service to some chinless rich wizard, I might as well be paid for it.

 

Draco Malfoy looked up from his perusal of the latest file of bookings as his assistant ushered in his ten-o-clock appointment. He had recognised the name as that of a valued and frequent client, so he was surprised to find himself looking at a self-possessed chic young woman and not the 'raddled French poodle' about whom his father was frequently (if privately) so scathing. Madame Delacour had driven Lucius to drink over their last booking, and Draco had been prepared for a robust interview on the subject of the precise value of the company's services where they included the personal attention of one of the Directors.

Mademoiselle Delacour, on the other hand, might very well qualify for his own personal attention. He rose to escort her to the seat opposite his desk before settling himself back into his own chair.

"Well, M'selle, this is a pleasant surprise. I had expected your mother. I can't imagine that there is much that WP Escorts can do for you. A young lady of your looks, talent and family would hardly need to pay for our services."

She smiled nervously. "Oh no, M'sieur Malfoy. You mistake the reason for my appointment. I was hoping that your business might consider employing _my_ services."

Draco's eyes widened fractionally and he leaned forward over the desk. "Forgive me, M'selle, but do you mean that you are looking for a job with us? If so, I do regret that the post of receptionist is taken, and we have no other office vacancies at present."

Gabrielle stood and stripped off her street-robe. "I was not looking for an office position," she said, "I am seeking employment as one of your 'escorts'. I do have experience of attending public functions. I am fluent in five languages, including Elvish, and I have a very good command of privacy spells and discretion charms."

Draco nodded. "I'm sure you have. But..."

"I 'ave also," she said, beginning to unbutton her blouse, "been told that I 'ave a not unpleasant visage and a good figure." The last button popped open and she shrugged the silk off her shoulders revealing a figure that Draco, who was an expert, would have described as 'superb' rather than 'good'. He said so.

She leaned over the desk, giving him a closer view of her corseted cleavage. "Also," she added, huskily, revealing her tongue briefly between parted, moist lips, "I _adore_ deep-throating cock."

Draco ran a finger round the suddenly tight collar of his business robe. "Er... You do realise that I can't just take your word for that, Miss Delacour?"

She backed away a little and glanced across the room to where a pair of easy-chairs flanked the blazing fire. "Ah, you would like a demonstration? Would you prefer me under your desk or somewhere more comfortable?"

"Hmm." Draco made a note on his pad before setting down his quill, rising and moving to settle himself in the right-hand chair. He leaned back comfortably and parted his legs to allow her access. "You have five minutes," he said, "Before my next appointment."

"Zen I do not wish to lose time." She smiled and look out her wand, effectively demonstrating that she had not lied about her efficiently performing privacy spells. The lock on the door clicked shut as she turned the wand back to divest Draco of his trousers and underwear.

He nodded, admiring the spellwork. Over on the desk his quill made a further note in the open file.

She fell gracefully to her knees, allowing him another opportunity to admire her lace-confined cleavage as she ran an index finger up the length of his flacid cock before bending to bring it to her lips.

Draco allowed his head to fall back against the cushions, and concentrated on the feel of her lips, the touch of her fingers, and the brush of her fine hair against his thighs.

Despite his time limit she did not immediately take him wholly down her throat, but toyed with tongue and teeth, drawing his attention and his blood down into his cock, and into her working mouth. He watched her through his lashes, not wanting to distract her with words, or divert her quite delicious attention to his needs. She was, he conceded, not underestimating her skill.

He was hard now, and could feel the smooth curved wetness of her palate on the head of his cock. His fingers curled around to grip the chair arms, holding back the desire to push against it and slide further down her working throat. He groaned, the first sound that either of them had made, and her eyes met his with an unmistakable question.

Draco opened his mouth but had no opportunity to respond because at that moment the fire in the hearth between them leapt into life and his father's head appeared among the flames.

"Draco? Would you let your mother know that I will be late tonight? The Black Widow made an emergency booking for the opening performance of X new play. She is a good client and I don't want to let her down."

Draco groaned, but managed a reply through only slightly gritted teeth. "Just the performance? Isn't there a post-show reception?"

Lucius gave a theatrical shudder. "Definitely just the performance. You know the woman's reputation. Please reassure your mother on that point. I'll be home for a late supper."

"Yes. Late for supper." Draco echoed, and his distraction must have finally registered with his father for, instead of dimming with a final farewell, the image in the fireplace leaned forward, an expression of critical fascination replacing the feigned boredom.

"Draco? What _are_ you doing?"

"Interviewing a prospective employee."

Lucius frowned, then dismissed the information. "Oh. Well, when you've finished would you call Amelia? The Widow wants an escort for her son. I expect that _will_ be an all-night contract."

Draco arched into orgasm. "A... Ah... Amelia's on leave. Would Wendy do?"

"No. It has to be a blonde. You know the Widow's artistic streak." Lucius looked thoughtful. "I don't suppose you'd consider taking a temporary sex-change potion for the night?"

"No," said Draco, shortly. "Never again. I'll see who we've got free."

He jumped as Gabrielle, who had been forgotten in their conversation, released him. She turned, spat delicately into a Chinese porcelain bowl set on the hearth for just that purpose, and looked into the fire. "I'm blonde," she said, tossing her long hair back to reveal her half-naked breasts to the fire, "And I am free tonight."

Amid the flames, Lucius turned his head to examine her. Then he turned back to Draco, who was refastening his trousers. "Well?"

Draco nodded.

"Splendid. You will do admirably my dear. Draco will give you the address. It's a West End production. Do dress appropriately." A second later he was gone.

Gabrielle stood, moved back to sit in the chair opposite Draco's desk, and began to re-button her blouse. "The Black Widow?" she asked. "This is your aunt? I have heard her grandson is very handsome."

Draco blinked, still trying to mentally deal with the way his father and this girl had steamrollered over him. So much for running an organised business. "Eh? Oh no. I think the only family the Widow hasn't any marital connection with is the Blacks. It's Mrs Draper-Lawson-Higgs-Cauldwell-Harcourt- Zabini-Keeler. You're to escort her son, Blaise."

"I see. And to provide my 'special service'? Will he require an 'all night'."

"Merlin no!" Draco exclaimed, driven to a display of emotion for the first time since Gabrielle had entered. "His mother may be angling for a wife for him, but I want him back in _my_ bed, where he belongs, by midnight."

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Written for IJ's 'Daily_Deviant' August 2010 challenge to prompt: Prostitution


End file.
